


Kuduro

by BlueRoboKitty



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Dirty Dancing, Drunk Dancing, Explicit Language, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Prom, Underage Drinking, drunk!keith is a tease, rivals to rivals who wanna do each other, shallura mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-21
Updated: 2016-08-21
Packaged: 2018-08-10 01:53:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7825585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueRoboKitty/pseuds/BlueRoboKitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It’s about lettin’ go and havin’ a good time."</p>
<p>So Lance's girlfriend dumps him two weeks before prom night. Worse, Hunk has a girlfriend he plans on taking leaving Lance with no options. In a fit of desperation, because there's no way he's going to his senior prom dateless, Lance ends up going with Keith, but just as a casual thing and nothing more. </p>
<p>Fifth place prize for my giveaway: Lance teaching Keith how to dance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kuduro

**Author's Note:**

> Fifth place prize in my giveaway for [katlinyn712](http://katlinyn712.tumblr.com/). Congrats and I hope you enjoy! :D Also, special thanks to my good friend [vir-ghilani](http://vir-ghilani.tumblr.com/) for looking over this and reminding me that a dude's corsage is actually called a frickin' _boutonniere_ so thanks to her now Lance gets both! (my prom was years ago, okay, YEARS). Also, I got a little carried away with this, dancing and drinking is like my ultimate kink so I skirted the NSFW line just a little bit. But I don't think it's enough to warrant an M-rating.

There was no way in _hell_ Lance was going to senior Prom without a date. So of course, Nyma had dumped him two weeks beforehand just so she could go with some football player who didn’t even have a position on the team that actually mattered. Tackle and guard. El-oh-el, more like _fodder._ She'd dumped the captain of the soccer team for football _fodder._

That wasn’t the bad part, though, Lance always knew his relationship with Nyma was just a fun post-Spring Break fling before they both moved on to other people, even if she couldn’t wait until _after_ Prom to call things off. No, no, Lance was more incensed that _Hunk_ was taken for the night.

“I know we promised to take each other as casual dates and stuff whenever you’re in-between girlfriends,” Hunk said, rubbing his index fingers together, “but I’m with Shay now, and it just doesn’t seem right that we don’t go together. You’re still welcome to tag along, of course, there’s nothing that says people can’t go in groups and stuff.”

“As a third wheel? C’mon, you can’t be serious,” Lance had shot back. “This isn’t like junior year, Hunk, it’s _senior prom! THE_ night of our high school careers to remember _forever!”_

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure that’s just a Hollywood thing. And if that’s the case, you sure you want a casual date for that? You can always ask Pidge, too.”

Lance threw his hands up as he paced around Hunk's living room. “That’s just it! Even _Pidge_ has a date.”

“Wait, really? _Who?”_

Lance shrugged. “I have no idea. She had this kinda crazy look in her eyes when she told me. I don’t think she’s slept in the past week.”

Then Hunk smiled, and it was a smile Lance didn’t like whatsoever, the smile of tables turning, the sweet, sweet smile of Hunk having an ingenious idea at Lance’s expense. Without another word, he pulled out his phone and with a few taps of his thumb, he was calling someone.

“Hunk? Hunk, what are you doin’?”

Hunk held up a finger to keep Lance quiet as he waited for someone on the other end to pick up. “Yo, bro, whaddup? Studying? Sorry, this won’t take long, promise. Hey, you’re still coming to prom, aren’t you? I know you preferred going with just a group, and I am still all for that, but wouldn’t it be better if you did have a date?”

“Who is it?” Lance asked, but Hunk shook his head at him.

“Yeah, yeah, I know you don’t care about not having a date, but I know someone who really needs a date like yesterday, and I was wondering if you’d be willing to help him out. Y’know, as a favor. Nothing serious.”

“WHO. IS. IT?” Lance mouthed as he got up in Hunk’s personal space, straining to hear the person on the other end of the phone. Hunk pushed him out of the way.

“Really? That’s really cool of you, man. Oh, who is it? Yeah, about that, um, there might be just a slight downside there.”

“Hunk, _who the fuck are you talking to!?”_

“Is that Lance screaming in the background? Yes. Yes, that’s the slight downside.”

“HUNK!”

In one final, desperate lunge, Lance managed to yank Hunk’s phone out of his hand. “Who is this!?”

_“You are so goddamn loud, you know that?”_

Of all the possible seven billion voices that could emerge from the phone, it had to be _that_ one. That specific voice. Soft-spoken and a little husky. Could be considered sexy if its owner had been literally _anyone else_ in the world. “Uh uh, no way, I am not going to prom with mullet head!”

_“Well, good luck finding another date three days before prom night then,”_ Keith replied nonchalantly. _“It doesn’t matter to me either way.”_

“I’ll just take a freshman then!”

_“Because that’s not creepy at all.”_

A short pause as Lance growled into the phone, glaring at Hunk, unable to think up a proper comeback that actually didn’t make him sound creepy. If he had a freshman friend to take, that would be one thing because this was just casual, but he didn’t know any freshmen. Pidge was only fourteen, sure, but she had actually skipped a few grades and ended up in their graduating class. And she already had a mystery date.

_“Look, Hunk is a really good friend, so if he wants me to do this for you, I have no problem with it,”_ Keith continued, and he sounded so damn reasonable and collected, it infuriated Lance even more. _“Think of it as doing it for Hunk.”_

Okay, that… that was low. Of course, Lance would do anything for Hunk. Of course!

“Fine. You can be my date for prom. But you better buy me a corsage, dammit. I want an orchid. A blue one!”

_“Don’t be childis – “_

Lance hung up before the mullet could insult him further.

 

* * *

 

It wasn’t that Lance actually _hated_ Keith or anything, and they’ve had their decent moments throughout high school where it looked like an actual friendship might start developing between them. Especially considering all of their friends were mutual, there was no escaping the other, anyway. And Keith did come to all his soccer matches with the rest of the group, even if he was glued to his phone the entire time.

Whether their rivalry continued through sheer stubbornness or just the familiarity, Lance wasn’t sure anymore. All he knew that only the best of the best were accepted into the Garrison Academy commissioned officer program, and Keith stood in his way, and that’s just how it was.

No, that wasn’t right. More like, _motivated_ him. Keith did everything, _everything,_ with barely any effort. He had been accepted into the Academy without question over a month ago, while Lance was still eagerly waiting for his acceptance letter, or otherwise, and every day that went by with no answer made him more and more nervous, which made him snappier at Keith. Like it was his fault somehow.

Not tonight. He’ll not think about that tonight. So when Keith showed up at his door, the deadpan “yo” barely left his mouth before Lance was pinning a bright crimson rose boutonniere on his tuxedo jacket. He expected Keith to complain about how cliché a rose was, and it was, but Keith just gave him a wide-eyed stare. “Uh… thanks?”

“You’re my _date,”_ Lance shot back, feeling his face heat up as he secured the pin, “of course you gotta look the part.” And then clearing his throat loudly, he pointed to his own boutonniere-free jacket.

“Oh. Right. Um, sorry, it’s actually not an orchid. I’ve called and been to at least six different shops, and they were sold out everywhere. Also, I got kinda confused because you said  _corsage_ but I thought maybe you actually meant  _boutonniere_ because you can be really clueless sometimes - "

"HEY!" 

" - so I got you both." 

Lance was too stunned to say anything as Keith slipped the corsage on his wrist first, blooming irises with deep indigo petals nested within green leaves and little white buds and blue ribbons. It actually was a lot prettier than an orchid, Lance couldn’t help thinking, as Keith carefully pinned a matching boutonniere, a single iris, to his jacket. Lance never thought he would go to his prom with Keith, much less go to prom with Keith covered in flowers. It made him a little giddy, and they even complimented his navy blue tuxedo well. He had spent the past four hours making sure he looked  _perfect_ for tonight, each strand combed meticulously in place, eyebrows carefully trimmed, a few spritz of Spicebomb, a gift for his fifteenth birthday, that he only wore on the most special of occasions. 

Keith, though, looked fucking _sharp,_ decked out in  _all_ black from his jacket to his shoes, his tie, red as his boutonniere, a little loose, and his hair still somewhat damp from probably a shower and pulled back in a short tail. And whoa, he smelled kinda nice, actually, a fresh scent that reminded Lance of apples and old leather.

Lance coughed, making any sound it took just to break the awkward silence that suddenly came over between them. Wow, they really had no idea how to talk to each other unless they were bickering, did they? “Um, your tux is nice. Where’d ya get it?”

Keith shrugged as he took a few steps back after fiddling with Lance's boutonniere a moment to make it look straight. “Just something my foster brother had a few years back for his prom. He had it tailored for me since it doesn’t fit him anymore, anyway. It's not like he grew any smaller."

“Oh. That’s cool.” Keith lived in a foster home? Lance never knew that. Actually, even after four years, he still didn’t know much about Keith, at all, at least not his private life.

Keith shuffled his feet, scratching his cheek. “Okay, so time to go, I guess?”

“Hang on, I kinda promised my mom that she would get to meet you.”

“Your _mom?”_

“Yeah, she’s waaaay more excited about tonight than I am,” Lance said as he tugged Keith into the house before he could make a run for the limo behind them. “C’mon, it’ll only take a second. Maybe. Just smile and nod.”

 

* * *

 

Lance had no idea what was more shocking when their limo pulled up to the Holt residence, their last stop before they were taken to the venue. The fact that Katie (aka: “Pidge”) was all dolled up in a floofy green dress, or that a robot dressed in the classic black-and-white tuxedo stood next to her.

“Hey, guys!” she greeted as she climbed into the limo with the robot trailing behind her.

“Holy shit, Pidge, what is that?” Lance spoke up for the entire group as the other two couples gawked at her. Even the chauffeur stared at the rearview mirror in disbelief.

“This is my date for tonight, of course,” Pidge replied with a smirk. Even without her glasses on to push up her nose with self-satisfaction, she still looked as ingenious and smug as ever. “Say ‘hi’, Voltron.”

The robot named ‘Voltron’ beeped a few times and waved, and a ‘^_^’ appeared on its digital face.

“He says it’s nice to meet you guys. I wanted to program him with a voicebox and everything so he could actually talk, but I didn’t have the time. By the way, thanks for all those relays you built for me, Hunk. Sorry I made you do all that work without telling you the reason.”

“Dude, like anyone needs a _reason_ to build an awesome robot!” Hunk replied, unable to keep his hands off Voltron as he checked the robot out all over, then sniffed. “I feel like such a proud parent having helped created this wonderful robot child.”

Voltron beamed with a ‘^///^’.

“I still can’t believe you built your date out of scratch,” Keith remarked, and then shot Lance such a disheartened look, like he was utterly _disappointed_ that his date wasn’t an awesome robot. Lance could only scowl back at him.

They focused on Voltron for the entire ride until the limo pulled up to the lobby of The Arusian, one of the fanciest hotels in town, maybe even the whole county. “The Booster Club sure went out of its way this year,” Pidge remarked as the group walked around a massive fountain of marble lionesses watching the guests come and go with regal eyes.

Shay, the treasurer of the Booster Club, blushed a little with pride, one of her fingers playing with a dark brown curl, occasionally flicking against her hoop earring. “So many bake sales and car washes. I would be lying if I said I’m not glad all of that is over now.”

“Hey, you did good,” Hunk praised her, pulling her closer to him and making her giggle some more. “Prom wouldn’t be nearly as amazing if it wasn’t for you, specifically. You've busted your butt this past year for tonight.”

“You helped me, too. I don’t think I would have accomplished nearly as much without your support.”

And Lance didn’t think he could handle much more of the sap going on behind him. Sure, he was really happy for his best friend finally finding a sweet girl to fall for, really, he was just, admittedly, a little jealous that he couldn’t get all sappy with his own date. Not that he wanted to get all sappy with  _Keith_ or anything. 

Inside the lobby, a crowd of excited, blushing students had gathered in line by the desk, reserving rooms to continue tonight’s celebration _privately._ And there she was, Nyma, in a sparkling skyblue dress and her hair in thick blonde curls. She was giggling and chatting with some white-haired chump with bad boy scruff who was taller and much more muscular than Lance but still looked a little too skinny to be a football player, especially a guard or whatever. When Nyma glanced in his direction, Lance grabbed Keith’s arm, linking it with his own, making the other gawk at him.

“Dude…?”

“You’re my _date,_ remember? I already said we gotta _look_ the part.”

“Oh. Um. Right.”

 

* * *

 

Hunk was having fun with Shay, making her laugh as they twirled around to some nightcore that reverberated deafeningly throughout the dark ballroom lit only with colorful fiber optics and glowsticks. Pidge was having fun with her robot named Voltron, who would probably be crowned Prom King the way everyone within ten feet of it couldn’t seem to get enough as they fawned over it. Even Miss Allura, Lance’s homeroom teacher, who he had been crushing on for the past four years, a chaperone for tonight and the woman Lance had planned on making a few moves on (Nyma or no Nyma), was having fun dancing with some really handsome looking dude in military dress. God, that guy looked like his muscles were going to rip right out of his service coat if he flexed any more, no wonder Allura only had eyes for him right now. Yup, everyone was having fun. 

Lance wasn’t having fun. He didn’t even know how to begin having fun with Keith, of all people. Keith kind of just sat there and wouldn’t stop staring at his phone. How could Facebook or whatever be more interesting than prom night when _everyone_ in school was here, anyway? So the both of them sat in silence at the table, doing nothing with their mouths except drinking as much of their table's bowl of punch as possible. Nerves, maybe? Lance knew his heart was racing faster with every minute that went by.

He kinda, actually, really wanted to dance with Keith a bit. Keith was his _date,_ after all. And the longer he sat at the table doing nothing but drinking punch, the more convinced he became that people were beginning to notice that he had brought a date along for show and nothing more. That was just as bad as not bringing a date at all! It didn’t help that Keith wasn’t even _complaining_ about the lack of attention, as if perfectly content to sit there and play on his phone the entire night of his senior prom. The one they got all dressed up for, bought each other a boutonniere for? Lance was decked out in both a boutonniere  _and_ a corsage, for fuck's sake!

Angrily, Lance took another deep drink of his punch. It was… pretty damn good punch, actually, the _one_ thing that was going right this entire night. He had punch many times in his life, all the birthday parties and family gatherings and school functions he’d been to over the years made him drink his fair share. And never had it tasted like this. There was some _bite_ to the drink, burning his throat a little and making his insides all warm and fogging his brain.

It was actually starting to make him feel a bit better. A lot _braver_ at least as Lance felt his inhibitions dissolve one by one.

Lance slammed his glass down on the table, startling Keith something fierce. “This is _bullshit!”_ he cried. “This is senior prom! You are my _date!_ Why are we just sittin’ here!?!”

Keith tilted his head. “Um, because you said this was just casual?”

“Casual dates don’t buy each other flowers to wear!”

_“You_ wanted one!”

“And now I wanna dance!” Strangely, the room began to tilt a little bit as Lance stood up. Whoa. His entire body felt so light, like he wasn’t actually occupying it and it was kind of moving on its own with no thought from him. He grabbed the back of his chair to brace himself as the world tilted again at a very impossible angle. 

Keith actually looked concerned. “You okay?”

And then Lance had a thought, and it was a fair thought to have, but at the moment it seemed really, really funny and he began to giggle. “Keith… I... I think someone spiked the punch.”

“Considering I saw Pidge pour like an entire bottle of Smirnoff into the bowl just before she left to dance with Voltron, yeah, probably.”

“Holy shit. Oh my god, dude!” Lance exclaimed with a laugh, and then lowered his voice to an excited whisper. “Holy shit, we’re drunk! We’re drunk at prom!”

“Speak for yourself, I feel fine.”

“Yeah, okay, buddy, you only drank as much punch as I did.”

Keith shrugged. “And clearly I have a higher tolerance than you. It’s just Smirnoff.”

“Don’t scoff at Smirnoff, bro, it’s not _light_.” And Keith jumped again when Lance leaned into his personal space while shrugging off his jacket. “Dance with me.”

“What? Why?”

“Because I want to dance with you.”

Keith was a liar if he wasn’t as drunk as Lance was at the moment, not with that red face of his growing redder by the second, the lush. “Or are ya scared?”

“I'm not scared! I'll dance with you or whatever!" 

Keith shot up to his feet to remove his own jacket, and then suddenly his legs gave away and he sprawled to the floor. For a brief, shocking second he lay there, Lance standing over him with his hands clasped over his mouth. And then Keith began to laugh. “Shit, dude, shit!” Lance squeaked, looking around and hoping none of the chaperones saw Keith faceplant for seemingly no reason. Luckily, none seemed to notice, and he helped Keith back to his feet, trying not to join him on the floor. “You fuckin’ okay, bro?”

Keith giggled more, swaying. “Okay, that... that might have been a delayed reaction.”

“Dude, you are _wasted._ ”

“So are you! And don’t say that too loud, stupid, we’ll get caught.” He snickered more, like the idea of getting caught was actually thrilling. “Hee. This is wild, I’ve never been drunk before.”

“Hah! Really? _Laaaaaaame._ You need to party more often. Right after we graduate, you and me, bro, I’m gonna show you a celebration like you wouldn’t believe.”

Lance hardly noticed Keith leaning toward him, but he did notice his eyes were the prettiest shade of dark indigo, just like his iris corsage, and he definitely noticed the tongue flicking over his bottom lip. “Sure. I think I’d like that a lot.”

Was it just him, or had Keith’s voice gone all sultry all of a sudden?

Hold that thought, the floor began to vibrate from Lance’s feet all the way up his body in a familiar rhythm that instantly ramped up his mood. “Oh my gooood, this is my jam, this is my fuckin’ jam!”

“What is it?” Keith squeaked as Lance dragged him to the dance floor, weaving through the cluster for rolling bodies for a clear spot.

“Fuckin’ _kuduro_ , you are in for a treat!”

“Kuduro? Is that a kind of dance? Um, I’ll be honest, I’m not much of a dancer.”

“Dude, it’s super easy, it’s not a dance, it’s a type of music. And  _anybody_ can dance to it, that’s the whole point! Just loosen up your hips, feel the beat, and you’re good to go! C’mon, let’s see, shake it for me, baby.”

Bless his heart, Keith _tried._ He looked less like dancing and more like getting ready for a fight, arms low, the balls of his feet doing all the work. Technically, it wasn't wrong, there was no "right" way to dance to kuduro; Keith just needed to be less _Keith_ about it. There was a party side to him in there somewhere, and Lance was determined to coax it out whatever it took. “Keith, buddy, bro, my main man, what is _that?”_

“Uh. Dancing?”

Lance blinked at him. “No. NO. Let me say again for you in Spanish this time. _NO._ Loosen UP. This ain’t a fight. I mean, you can turn a fight into a dance, but you look like someone shoved a steel rod up your ass _._ Pull it out, and let the music move your body for you.”

“Now you're just making it weird, I'm just nervous, okay.”

“How can you be nervous when you drank about half a bowl of Pidge Punch? Look. Like this.”

Lance began to pop his hips to the beat, his body fluid with seamless motion, like the music actually did control his every move and synchronized it perfectly to the rhythm, rolling in smooth waves from his hips to his torso and back down again. And then the chorus gave away to a much faster verse, and Lance's feet went in one direction as his waist went another, bouncing and tapping right on beat, dipping low, snapping back up, graceful from years of experience as he held out his arms for balance, letting the song do with his body as it pleased.

Keith sucked in his breath.

"Okay, you don't have to do that much, that's just an example. Let's start with the basics, those hips of yours." Grinning, Lance placed his hands on the curve of Keith's hips. “It’s a _travesty_ that you have such a cute butt and don’t know how to shake it properly.” He began to roll Keith around his hands in little circles, gradually increasing speed and range of motion with each turn. “See? Like _that.”_

“I don't think I'm really sexy enough for this." 

“First of all, that is a _goddamn lie_. Second, it ain’t just about bein’ sexy. It’s about lettin’ go and havin’ a good time. I told you, _anyone_ can do it, they just gotta give in to the music.”

Keith blinked and giggled. He was such a giggly drunk. “You think I’m sexy?”

“Objectively, _objectively!_ You are like one of the most popular guys in our school! Just, shut up and dance, mullet. Do what I do. And don’t think about it.”

Maybe it was the alcohol still sneaking up on him, but Lance thought Keith was improving a lot, mirroring Lance’s every move as kuduro music went on at breathless 140-beats-per-second. He raised his arms over his head when Lance did, and when Lance gyrated his hips as if seducing the very air, Keith did the same and boy, did that do things Lance’s head. A few beats later, and Keith was no longer paying attention to Lance at all, letting the music take him just as he had been told. His upper body and feet still moved kind of stiff and awkward and not entirely in sync, but damn could he move those hips better now. Strands of his black hair fell out of his ponytail, and Lance suddenly found it a little difficult to breathe.

The song faded into another kuduro song, and Lance made a note to personally thank the DJ for this playlist when Keith pulled him close by his shirt. “Am I doing better?” but his slurred voice made his words sound more like “Anidobetter?” His eyes were dark even when neon LED flashed in them, glazed over and heavily dilated. 

Lance chuckled low, biting his lower lip when Keith’s groin brushed his with teasing brevity, a tiny taste of the heat between them. “Hey, bro, we gotta keep Jesus between us, yeah?”

“I’m agnostic.”

“And I went to Catholic school, but the point is, those chaperones are gonna get on our asses if you tease me too much.”

Keith pouted, actually _pouted,_ at him, lips pursed and making a small whining sound in his throat. “But it’s _fun_ to tease you.”

Oh god. Oh god oh god oh god, Keith was worse than a giggly drunk – he had evolved into a _flirty_ drunk! This was bad news because Lance was also a major flirt when he had a bit too much and his filter had completely dissolved. Keith looked so hot, literally and figuratively and every other –tively out there, sweat trailing down his forehead, his face still bright red, his hair a mess, and his tie askew, and damn, oh damn, Lance did not need to think about what that reminded him of. Although, the slightest tempting thought did sneak through his alcohol-muddled brain that maybe he should get a room for tonight. Just in case.

Keith pulled him deeper into the crowd, using the excuse of closely packed bodies to push closer together, and then began to _grind_ into him and Lance was sure he whited out for a moment. When he came to, his hands were Keith’s backpockets, and his hips doing all the teaching as they popped and rolled together, their breath hot and boozy and mingling heavily together. Now some electronic song was playing, the chaotic tempo matching his heart beat for fucking beat, and Lance was tempted to turn Keith around to feel that plump little ass against him.

It had been about two weeks since he got laid, after all.

Keith grinned at him. “So you wanna do me?”

Okay, this guy had been playing dirty since they accidentally got drunk, but he could _read minds_ now!? A sound came out of Lance’s throat through his nose that was a weird mix of a snort and a shriek. “Uh… hahahahahaha… HA… what are ya talkin’ about?”

“You. You wanna do me.” Keith’s voice rose, teasing and sing-song, punctuated with giggles, tugging on Lance’s collar and pulling him tantalizing close to his lips. “Yoooooou waaaanna dooooo meeeee.”

“Uh… uuuuuuuuuaaaaaaahhhh…”

Keith giggled again, tilting his head in consideration. “Mmmm, but do I wanna do you, that’s the question.” One of his hands started playing with Lance’s bowtie, finger threatening to undo it completely with barely a tug. Lance’s mind was racing, the entire room spinning. Was Keith always this seductive, or was it just the vodka making him think his rival was the sexiest being in the entire universe right now? He was pretty sure the reality was most likely just a drunk dude embarrassingly draping himself over another drunk dude.

Whatever. Live in the moment and all that. Lance leaned forward in an actual, legit attempt to close the distance between their mouths, to actually _kiss_ fucking _Keith,_ but Keith pulled back with another impish laugh. Lance smirked at him. At least, he hoped it was a smirk and not something that made his face look stupid. “Then what do I gotta do to convince ya?” he asked, and it was the most casual tone possible, not pleading, absolutely not pleading.

Keith smirked back. “Hmm, I dunno. Maybe teach me how to ‘loosen up’ some more? Let go and all that?”

Holy shit, holy shit, was this really happening right now? Was Keith, his rival, the guy he had spent the past four years trying to keep up with, actually suggesting sleeping with him? Was he really, truly _considering_ it, _looking forward_ to it, _wanting_ it? “Oh, yeah, yeah, you definitely need a bit loosenin’ up, uh huh.” Fuck, he was babbling. The vodka was really getting to his head now, and the room spun even faster. He felt a little sick, even, his stomach twisting from a combination of alcohol, nerves, and being so very, very turned on. And all he cared about was this guy in front of him with his stupid sexy laugh and his stupid sexy mullet. 

 

* * *

 

Lance woke up like someone was driving little pins directly behind his left eye, sharp and pulsing. Vodka normally didn’t make him feel very sick, but there had been quite a bit in their punch last night so his stomach protested a little bit as he turned over to get away from the sunlight streaming through the window. He groaned as his head pounded harder, right behind his eye. Why was it always just that one eye? 

He blinked back awake. Wait. Morning. It was morning, and he recognized the layout of his own bedroom, the clean floor and carefully lined books on the shelf and neatly organized desk with everything from his pens to his textbooks and laptop in their proper place. At some point, he had exchanged his tuxedo for his pajamas, a blue shirt with a tortoiseshell kitten shooting lasers out of its eyes and purple Altea High sweatpants.  

His bed was empty.

On the one hand, that meant he didn’t sneak Keith into his own house. On the other, that meant he _didn’t_ sneak Keith into his own house.

As if she had been waiting for this very moment, Lance’s door shot open with a loud  _“¡Arriba_ , sunshiiiiiiiine!!!” Clara, only a grade below him, stood there with a smug look on her face, already dressed for the day. “Bro, you are so _lucky_ Mom and Dad were in bed when you got home because, oh my god, if they saw you last night you would be _so dead._ Every other word out of your mouth better be thanking me that I am so awesome to cover for you until you leave for college. I even put you in pajamas and everything. Am I the best sister you've ever had or what?”

“You’re so loud is what you are,” Lance grumbled, throwing a pillow over his head, which was screaming to be put out of its misery.

“Oh, and breakfast will be ready soon so you better look less hungover before Mom notices.”

Like that had ever worked. He definitely was going to be grounded until graduation, just like all the other times he had been caught drinking and sneaking out. Not that he was trying to be the problem child, he made excellent grades and his soccer coach loved him to pieces and even Miss Allura praised him from time to time, he just liked having fun and breaking the rules every once in a while. He reached out and felt around before wrapping his hand around his phone hidden beneath another one of his pillows. Good, there was still plenty of battery left. Time to check his messages before he said goodbye to his social life for the next month.

One new message from Hunk read,  _“Hey bro u sleep ok? U were WASTED last night. Gimme a text when u wake up so I know ur ok.”_

The second read,  _“U and Keith r rly cute btw. We saw u 2 dancing. It looked like Keith was having a lot of fun with u. U didn't hear this from me but I think he likes u."_

Lance felt his face warm as if Hunk had said those words in person, and he quickly typed back,  _"Awake now. About to go eat breakfast. Mom's gonna kill me but I'll be okay. :D. Nothin I havent done before."_

Then he added, if anything to salvage his reputation as Keith's rival,  _"He was just drunk. We both were. NBD."_

The message Pidge sent him very early this morning had a picture attached. _“I have way more but I thought you would really appreciate this one.”_

Lance gawked at his phone. It was a picture of Keith with his head in a toilet in the hotel restroom, and Lance passed out by his feet. Well, that certainly explained why Keith didn't come home with him. 

He had a voicemail waiting for him, too. He didn’t even have to look to know it was Pidge leaving him a complimentary lecture about his actions.

_“Hey, Lance, I know you’re asleep and that’s fine, because then you can just listen._ What the fuck, dude!? _That punch was meant for_ all of us _to have a little fun with, you two assholes weren’t supposed to drink it all by yourselves! Oh my god, you are so lucky only Keith’s brother and Miss Allura found you guys in the bathroom, and that Miss Allura likes you enough to not get you_ expelled _a month before graduation! C’mon, Lance, I know you wanna be the bad boy and stuff, but for now, can you grow up a little and save it for college? Anyway, since I’m sure we’re not going to see you until we graduate, I’ll email you all those pictures I got. Good luck with your parental figures. Later, dude.”_

Lance barely disconnected from his voicemail when his phone vibrated and a rap song rang throughout his room. His last phone call before his parents restricted its usage to emergencies only. Too bad he didn’t recognize the number at all. The final phone call of his high school career, and of course, it’s going to be a telemarketer. Oh, well. Maybe they'll listen to Lance whine for the next five minutes, give him some life advice about how to deal with developing a crush on his own rival overnight. 

“Hello?”

_“Hey.”_

His heart pounded all the way up to his parched throat as his stomach dropped. Keith sounded normal, if a little hoarse, like he had just woken up or dealing with his own hangover. Or both. “H-hey,” Lance replied, his mind remembering with embarrassing clarity Keith grinding against him last night, even going so far as to tease him about getting a hotel room together. 

According to Pidge’s picture, they apparently had been too drunk to get very far. Did they even kiss? Lance hoped he would remember that much if they had. Keith had turned his teasing dial up to eleven and kept going, so it was hard to say. 

“Are you feelin’ okay?” Lance asked.

_“Yeah, I got a bit of a headache but no big deal. Shiro came down on me with the wrath of God last night, though. I kinda wish I had passed out, too."_

"Shiro?"

_"My foster brother."_

"Oh right! You were tellin' me about him last night. Damn, he sounds really strict for being just your brother." 

_"That's because he's actually been my legal guardian since I was in the seventh grade. But he's only like not even eight years older than us so calling him my brother makes it sound way less complicated than it is. But, yeah, he was more mad that his date with Miss Allura had been cut short because of us. Sure, I might have been expelled, but you know, priorities."_

“Wait, hold up, back up a second, that hot military guy with Miss Allura last night is your  _brother!?"_

_“Yeah, he's a pilot. He's an instructor at Garrison Academy sometimes, too, but lately he's been getting ready to go on this space mission. Anyway, you’re like my one phone call before I go into solitary confinement until graduation so I guess we better make the most of this. How did your parents react?”_

“My sister put me to bed so they haven’t found out. Yet. But they will. They always do.”

_“I’m sorry.”_

“Eh, it’s no biggie. One last big punishment before I move off to college, y’know? Somethin' to remember me by.”

_“No, I mean, about my behavior last night.”_ There was a pause. _“It’s why I called. I wanted to say I was sorry.”_

Lance’s stomach leaped from his gut to his throat, and he had known Keith long enough to tell when he was backpedaling. If Lance wanted something more out of this, it was up to him this time. “So, is that ‘sorry’ as in ‘I was drunk and didn’t mean any of it’ or ‘sorry things got cut short last night and I totally wanna try again tonight when we sneak off together to this club that doesn’t look too closely at fake ids and maybe pick up where we left off’?” He mentally patted himself on the back. That came out way smoother than he thought it would considering he was just throwing words out there. 

The other end went very, very silent, long enough for Lance to start worrying that maybe he had said way too much this time. 

_“I, uh, I didn’t know there was a second option. Wow. Um… that one, I guess? The second one."_  Keith laughed softly, and damn, it was even cuter than when he had been drunk. He snorted.  _"You are just straight up trouble, aren't you, dude."_

“Naaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah, Pidge’s fake ids have never made anyone look twice so far. I think she hacks into the DMV directly. I'll have her make one for you, though she might charge. I think she does payment plans. So whaddaya say? It’s not like we can get any more punished than we already are.”

Lance wasn’t sure why he was even pushing for this, but he had always been the kind of person who never really thought about _why_ he wanted something, just that when he did, he chased after it to wherever it might lead him. He found himself staring at his iris corsage on the nightstand, laid tenderly next to its matching boutonniere, and his heart squeezed a little. He had so much fun last night. Regardless of his actual feelings for Keith, whatever they might be at this point, they had  _fun._ And he definitely wanted that fun train to keep going. 

“I can teach ya how to dance some more.”

_“Hmmm… maybe.”_

“Just maybe?”

_“Well, Shiro’s still pretty_ pissed _at me. And maybe I don’t wanna to make him any more pissed off. But then again maybe he has a date tonight, and maybe I'm sure that he has no intention of coming home for a while. So maybe I’ll be home alone from around seven until tomorrow morning, and maybe I’ll have my window open because the front door has a security camera.”_

Oh, God, Keith wasn’t just a tease when he was drunk.

“Lance!” came his mother's yell from downstairs. “LAAAAANCE! Your breakfast is getting cold!”

“Just a sec! Shit, I gotta go.”

_“Yeah, I should hop here, too."_

“So, maybe I’ll see you tonight at eleven-thirtyish?”

_“I guess maybe you’ll have to come over and find out.”_

Lance hung up, and couldn’t help shaking his hips a little as he went into the bathroom to wash his face and brush the taste of booze off his teeth. He couldn’t believe he was getting excited to sneak out with Keith, and yet the idea really elevated his mood to the point where he almost forgot he was hungover. Even when his parents lectured him sharply for drinking at prom and grounded him until college started, it didn't dampen his mood any. This was fine. He spent the day in his room, dancing to kuduro on his iPod, corsage back on his wrist, imagining Keith dancing with him and finally able to really shake what his mama gave him. Tonight, maybe, just maybe, they'll once again enjoy a moment of letting everything go together. 

**Author's Note:**

> I was tempted to make the Pidge Punch with soju because soju tastes exactly like what it's mixed with and then I realized they would most likely be dead if that were the case so vodka it is.
> 
> ETA: [Here's an incredibly fascinating article with some videos about the origins of Kuduro](http://www.npr.org/sections/therecord/2012/12/26/167628341/kuduro-the-dance-that-keeps-angola-going) since I know Lance's explanation is not much of an explanation and incredibly simplified given Kuduro's complex cultural history.


End file.
